Up to the mountain

“Some days I look down, afraid I will fall” – Patty Griffin

It’s about 5:30 a.m. I slept quite poorly last night. Maybe it’s because, for the second night in a row I’ve had complicated and spirited discussions on finances, philosophy and future plans late into the evening. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a big day in front of me visiting possible sites for land purchases in and around Kalimpong and beginning discussions of price negotiations and fundraising strategy.

It’s also possible that I’m a little stressed about the revelation that, tomorrow, I will be speaking for a couple of hours at an Indian seminary and I really have nothing prepared and feel ill-qualified to teach anything to a bunch of guys who rely completely on God for their daily bread and risk their lives sharing the gospel under the threat of torture or death in places like Bhutan.

Just as likely, I’m still a bit delirious from yesterday’s time with the kids. My back is killing me from careening down a mountainside yesterday stuffed in a jeep with 20 singing and laughing kids, and my face hurts from smiling so much.

After a delicious breakfast of an omelet, masala chai, potato curry and fried parathas, we walked from the hotel to Nandu’s house, which is also the temporary home for Kalimpong 2, and we were greeted by all 50 kids of KP1 and KP2, our staff and (also probably adding to my sleeplessness) a number of kids who are “provisionally in our care as prospective children for [the yet-to-be-funded, yet-to-exist] Kalimpong 3.”

After an hour of songs, another hour or two of games and a quick lunch prepared by the staff, we folded ourselves into the aforementioned jeeps and endured about 30 minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic in Kalimpong followed by another half hour or so of the steepest, most treacherous switchbacks imaginable on a narrow, crumbling mountainside road with no guardrails separated from a fatal, thousand-foot plunge by a six-inch wide strip of gravel and weeds. Nandu assured us that “these are the good roads” and that cars only “sometimes” fall off the mountain.

I wish I could have taken pictures or video that would do this journey justice, but the car was jostling and swerving the entire time, and even at 1/1000 exposure, my camera would not focus and I couldn’t capture anything better than a blur.

At the top of the mountain, however, was an oasis of tranquilty, a park that on a clear day offers views all the way out to China. We spent the entire afternoon playing cricket, soccer, volleyball, tag, Simon Says and whatever else the kids could think of. At one point, I think I was playing three sports simultaneously – none of them well.

With all of the kids together, it was easy to see which ones had been with us for only a few days. The Kalimpong 2 kids, along with the “prospective” children didn’t understand any of the games, but they did their best. Some ran around from game to game laughing and shouting, others found a staff member or one of our team and attached themselves to their side, shyly watching the proceedings from a safe distance. All, however, experienced the blessing of God through love of a family.

I was moved more than once to the brink of tears as I thought about the journeys that brought these children into our care, journeys far more perilous than our little jeep ride up the mountain. Nearly all of these kids have seen one or both parents die. All have been abandoned. All have faced hunger and fear. Many were abused. Some even tortured. But yesterday, they played Simon Says and enjoyed tea and cookies at a park in the foothills of the Himalayas. And last night, they had dinner, sang bedtime songs, said prayers and were tucked into warm beds by parents who love them, and who will be there for them with a hot breakfast and a hug in the morning.

This, my friends, is the Kingdom of God. This is what it is all about. This is what “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” means. This is true religion.

I wish with all of my heart that each of you could experience this. I believe that I could just transport every pastor I know, every business owner I’ve ever met, every one of my friends here for just one day we would never lack funds for another project, and we’d be singing up partnering churches and opening children’s homes so quickly we would lose count of the hundreds – perhaps thousands – of children being admitted into new, loving families every year in India, in Cambodia, in Thailand and beyond.

For those of you who already support the kids and staff of Asia’s Hope with your prayers,  finances and influence, I owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. For those of you who aren’t yet involved, I’m glad you’re reading along, and I pray that my pictures and stories have encouraged you, and that God is moving your heart toward a life of dedication to the poor and orphaned, whether it’s with Asia’s Hope or with one of the myriad other great organizations working all around the world.

May God bless you as he has blessed me, my family, my staff and kids.

John McCollumComment
I've loved these days

Sam and I have had a great time this last week, enjoying lots of opportunities to act like tourists, especially over the last couple of days.

On Sunday morning we took the train from Delhi to Agra, home of the magnificent Taj Mahal. Like so many aspects of Indian society, the railways here are a thrilling but exhausting spectacle that manages somehow to be both frenetic and plodding at the same time.

[note: due to a digital mishap of epic proportions, all of my photos from Old Delhi and Agra are gone. The only place they exist is in a Facebook album. Sad face.]

We sprung for the first class tickets. The bump in price provided reasonably clean assigned seats and an absence of livestock. We left at dawn, rode in relative comfort through near white-out fog conditions, and arrived at the Agra station largely unmolested. Exiting the train, however, ejected us into a den of hustlers, pickpockets and touts that latch onto foreigners like fleas on a dog’s rump. Despite their best efforts, we successfully hired a taxi and rumbled our way to a somewhat embarrassingly posh hotel with cricket grounds and a rooftop view of the Taj.

I’m not a jaded traveler. I walk around this part of the world with a sense of awe pretty much 23/7. This said, I was prepared to be only mildly impressed by the Taj Mahal. My first glance, however, left me quite literally breathless.

First, I never had any idea that it was so big. I imagined something a couple of stories tall. The thing is enormous. Like 300+ feet high. Not only that, it’s just absolutely gorgeous. Pictures truly don’t convey the beauty – the amazing symmetry, the scale, the exquisite finishes, the way the marble changes color as the sun moves across the sky. From every angle, it’s a masterpiece, and it is by far the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. The Mughal architects and craftsmen rivaled the creators of Angkor Wat. Like the ancient Khmer artisans, the creators of the Taj Mahal seem to have been blessed with almost a supernatural level of creativity and skill. Truly, the Taj is so much more than just another world traveler’s box to check before moving on to the Parthenon and the Eiffel Tower.

We returned to Delhi the next day and checked into a modest hotel near the airport and began planning our rendezvous with the rest of our team. Tim, Carol, Greg and Keith arrived together that evening and began their own initiation into travel purgatory. To make a very long story shortish, the hotel had informed us that they would not send a car until they received a call from the team informing them that they were on the ground. Unfortunately, there were no pay phones inside the hotel, so the team had to leave the airport and walk past the area the driver would later come to wait for them.

Complicating matters further, Carol had heard the guy from the hotel instruct her to look for a man with a black car with the hotel’s name. Nope. He said to look for a “man with a placard with the hotel’s name.” An hour or so after their expected arrival time, I asked the front desk captain if they had been picked up. “No. We talked to Mrs. Richardson on the phone, but we cannot find her team.”

Great. So I grabbed my coat and hailed a cab to the airport where I began my search, calling the hotel every half hour or so to see if they had arrived. My search began somewhat leisurely – I fully expected to find them within minutes of arrival. By the time midnight rolled around I was becoming frantic. No one could help me, no one would call the United Airlines office for me to try to locate them, and I wasn’t allowed in the airport without ticket or passport, the latter I had left at the hotel.

Thank God for my Indian cell card. I received a call around 12:30 that they had given up and taken a cab to the hotel. They were all in good spirits when I arrived – I was certainly more stressed out than any of them.

The next day – yesterday – we all got up and headed to the airport to make our flight to Siliguri and produced another travel comedy that I won’t take the time to discuss. Suffice it to say that it was only funny in retrospect. It was like an episode of the Amazing Race without the bimbos and backstabbing.

Eventually we all made it to Siliguri and were greeted by our wonderful director Nandu and his lovely wife Anu. We enjoyed a delicious lunch at a local hotel and headed in three cars – red, white and blue – into the mountains on a beautiful, but perilous journey that was something like a day trip though the Smoky Mountains and the fliming of a sequel to Blade Runner.

We arrived after dark at the Silver Oaks Hotel in Kalimpong, just the kind of quaint, Raj-era lodge you’d hope to find nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas. It’s really much nicer than we need, but Nandu negotiated an almost 50% tariff reduction, and he assured us that the other hotels would not be warm enough. A good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed with a thick blanket augmented marginally by a tiny space heater has convinced me that he made a good decision.

In a few minutes we will meet Nandu for breakfast and then we’ll make the final turn in our transition from tourists to visiting family, walking about a kilometer down the road to see the kids. I’ve loved all of the beautiful and impressive cultural sights, but none of them – not even the Taj – will be any better than the sight of the 50 smiling kids from our Kalimpong 1 and 2 homes, many of whom I have never met.

I will be sure to take lots and lots of pictures. Now the trip is really going to get good. Please stay tuned over the next few days for photos and stories from the most exciting part of our journey here in India. Thank you so much for your support of the kids and staff of Asia’s Hope.

John McCollum Comment
Bhogpur Children's Home

It’s a three wool blanket and one ski cap kind of night in chilly Dehradun. There’s no central heating at the Bhogpur Children’s Home, where we are spending the night as the guest of Calvin Taylor, whose family has served in India for three generations. Sam has a cold, and has warned me that he will likely snore like a freight train. I have headphones and Ambien handy, so I think I should do okay. I also have a pillow nearby that I can use to smother one or both of us if things get out of hand.

The home was founded in 1945 by Calvin’s grandparents, and houses 420 children, all of whom have parents who are suffering from or have died of leprosy. It’s an honor to meet the kids and staff, and to see firsthand such a legacy of commitment to caring for the poor in Jesus’ name. It’s always great to meet colleagues and to share ideas and compare notes. I’ll leave here with lots to think about, and with a new set of kids to keep in my prayers.

We’ll be here for another day, so I’ll have plenty of time to take pictures of the kids and the surrounding area. I decided to just be a guest tonight, and I left the camera in my bag. It’s early, but it’s dark and I’m a bit jetlagged. I will probably head to bed soon.

Sam is already snoring. Time for headphones and sleepy pills.

Good night.

Good morning.

Fast forward a day and a half, and we’re in the Dehradun airport. It’s still cold and cloudy. We spent last night at a hotel – Sam’s cold was sufficient to warrant a change of venue so he could enjoy a hot shower. It seems to have helped, as did a night of relatively warm sleep.

Our time in Dehradun and Boghpur has been great. I pray that, like the ministry we visited here, Asia’s Hope will still be serving kids in 100 years.

We’ll relax in Delhi this afternoon and evening and then head to Agra by train tomorrow to see the Taj Mahal. I’ll be sure to bring extra camera batteries. I hope to do the sights justice.

I’m sure I’ll love the Taj, but I’m already restless. I’ve been poring over the photos and bios of our kids in Kalimpong – I want to call as many by name as my aging brain will permit. I miss even the ones I haven’t met yet! I’m can’t wait to see Nandu and his family again and introduce Sam and the team to them. In the meantime, though, I’ll enjoy being a tourist.

John McCollum Comments
Old Delhi

According to our rickshaw driver, we experienced “the real India” today, bumping along narrow city streets packed with people and lined with shops selling saris and spices.

The day certainly started authentically enough, with Sam and I waiting for hours in queue at the “foreign tourist tickets” room in the Delhi train station. To have arrived at the room at all seems something of a miracle given the dozen or so touts who had set upon us to throw us off the scent. These hucksters stalk hapless tourists and waylay them with all manner of lies ranging from “you cannot buy tickets at this station – my friend will take you to another tourist office” to “the train no longer runs from Delhi to Agra – my friend can take you in his car.”

Eventually, we procured what we’re assuming are authentic tickets to Agra, the site of the incomparable Taj Mahal, which we will allegedly visit on Sunday, after we return from two days in Dehra Dun, site of an orphanage that Sam and his family have supported financially over the last few years. I’m looking forward to building relationships and sharing ideas with other colleagues and meeting those kids.

 After being released from the purgatory of Indian transport bureaucracy, Sam and I escaped by tuk-tuk to the Red Fort, a 17th Century Mughal palace. It was picturesque and red and fort-like. We then hired the aforementioned rickshaw driver who ferried us hither and yon through the back streets – and a few rooftops – of the old city.

As Sam observed, “This would be a lot harder in 100F weather.” Today’s temperature was mighty fine indeed – about 60F – perfect for jeans and jacket. I’ve only been here one day, but I can say with certainty that January is the ideal time to visit Delhi. I’m betting that it won’t be so pleasant when I return with the family this summer, but I’m sure we will have a great time nonetheless.

I can also tell you that I greatly prefer Delhi to Calcutta which, even for an experienced world traveler and extreme extrovert, was non-stop sensory overload.

I would love to write more, but that will have to wait. I’ve taken a short nap, and it’s time for dinner. I’m sure it will be delicious – everything in this country is. If I’m not too exhausted I’ll check in once more before leaving for Dehra Dun. Peace.

John McCollumComment
Hello, Delhi

After a long — almost 16 hours — but uneventful flight from Newark, I arrived in Delhi somewhere around 9pm, India time. Within a few minutes of disembarking, I began to experience the legendary bureaucracy that invades even international corporations like United Airlines in India.

After waiting for about an hour for my checked luggage to make its way onto the carousel, the baggage attendants and I agreed that it just wasn’t going to happen. That decision plunged me into another two hours of rubber stamps, carbon papers and forms to be filled (in triplicate, of course). Thankfully, I packed almost all of my essential items in my carry-on, so I’ll be okay for a couple of days. If I don’t recover my big suitcase, however, I’ll need to buy a new winter coat and I’ll lose many of the games and gifts I brought for the children. The suitcase will, allegedly, be delivered to my hotel by end of day tomorrow. That would be nice, but I’m not sure I’m counting on it.

After much ado at the airport, I rented a cab to take me to my hotel in Connaught Place, which appears to be the center of the city. At first glance, Delhi is about 50 year ahead of Calcutta in terms of infrastructure and cleanliness. Then again, it’s dark, and there was little traffic on the road. I will tell you, however, that this 30 minute cab ride was much better than last year’s hour-and-a-half deathmarch through Calcutta traffic sans air-conditioning, sans shock absorber.

The weather here is beautiful. I’d guess it’s about 40F at night. A light fog has descended over the city, and the whole place smells vaguely of incense. I am exhausted, but I can’t wait to get out into the city tomorrow morning to look around.

For now, however, I’m taking advantage of the 24 hour restaurant at my hotel, and I’m enjoying a plate of delicious mutton roganjosh and a basket of butter naan. So far, so good.

John McCollumComment
"In the darkness, there shined a light."

There’s a reason, I think, that as Christians we celebrate the birth of the savior at the darkest time of the year. The poignant juxtaposition of hope and despair, of darkness and light, is the very heart of the Christmas. The story of a people in captivity, barely holding on to belief in the promises of a God who seems to have forgotten them, whose rescue comes in the form of a baby born in a stable — this story resonates with all of us who fear, who doubt and who sometimes hope.

This Christmas has been for me a big jumble of darkness and light, of tears and laughter, of frustration and promise.

Last Thursday, after a full week of feeling buffeted by horrifying news stories of children my daughter’s age being massacred at school, of suicide bombings, hate crimes, drone strikes and fiscal cliffs, I was more than ready to leave the office, pack my up my wife and kids and head south to visit friends, family and Asia’s Hope supporters in North Carolina and Florida for a much-needed workcation.

As restless as I was to get on the road, there was no way I was going to miss my afternoon meeting with Mike Borst, pastor of NorthChurch (Lewis Center, Ohio). I’ve known Mike for years, and have long believed that NorthChurch would one day become an Asia’s Hope partnering congregation. On Thursday, we made it official: NorthChurch is now the sponsor of our newest home, Kalimpong 2 in Northeast India! In less than two weeks, I’ll be flying to India with a group of Asia’s Hope staff, board members and supporters, and I’ll get a chance to meet the 25 kids now living in our 25th children’s home.

I left the office buoyant – what a great way to end the year! I enjoyed a great evening with my family, finished packing my bags and went to bed only a little late. I woke up the next morning to a raft of Facebook messages and emails: one of our homes in Thailand had burned to the ground. As I pored over the pictures of stunned children and staff who, thank God, were not at home when the fire broke out, I felt sickened.

photo.JPG

Beyond the building itself, these kids lost much more. They lost all of the letters, photos and drawings from friends, visitors and sponsors. Worse yet, I suspect that some of the children lost the one remaining picture they had of a mother or father. All of it burned up. Only one boy, Pichai, was able to recover a small album of photos. Beyond all of that, the sense of security we work so hard to provide for these children had been jeopardized.

Much less important was the sense of frustration I felt as I watched helplessly the nice, tidy bow I’d wrapped around 2012 unravel and fall to pieces. So many people had worked so hard to help Asia’s Hope end the year in the black and with a ton of forward momentum on a number of capital and operational projects. Now, I was headed out of the office for a month and a half with a huge, unfunded and immediate need.

$75,000 is a lot of money, especially for an organization that operates in the U.S. with a skeleton crew and on a shoestring budget. What could we do?

Clench fists. Breath deeply. Close eyes. Pray. Open eyes. Unclench fists.

Send out emails. Post on Facebook and Twitter.

Breath deeply. Close eyes. Pray. Open eyes.

Within hours, I heard from a longtime donor who sent enough money to meet immediate emergency needs – mattresses, mosquito nets, blankets, toiletries. Other donors called and offered to help. Our Canadian board president called and let us know that they had money to contribute to the effort. Pastors from Doi Saket 1’s supporting church and two Asia’s Hope churches not directly affected by the fire called and let me know that they would be taking special Christmas Eve offerings to help with the reconstruction.

By the time I got on the road, my frustration had dissolved, and was being replaced by something like exhilaration. Stuff was happening. God was doing it!

A week after the fire, we are within spitting distance of being able to cover the entire cost of tearing down the old building and completing the new one. Thanks to the hard work, the sacrifice and the generosity of our board, our partnering churches and dozens of ordinary people committed to stepping up and delivering for the orphaned children displaced by this fire, we’re proving to our Thai staff and kids that they are not alone, and that their brothers and sisters around the world can and will respond to their needs.

So, once again the Christmas narrative plays out in our midst. Out of darkness and despair comes light and hope.

Thank you for playing a part in this drama. Thank you engaging suffering, for unleashing hope. It is a pleasure to serve with you all.

John McCollum Comments
When kids leave Asia's Hope

As we are all aware, our kids — those at home in the West and those living at Asia’s Hope — are growing up. In fact, over the next 10 years, we will see hundreds of kids at our homes in Cambodia, Thailand and India reach adulthood.

As each of these kids prepares to transition from childhood to adult independence, it’s important that we prepare our partners and supporters for this exciting, yet challenging phase. I hope that this letter will provide the context necessary to understand the choices our kids will be making as they leave home.

As you are probably aware, Asia’s Hope has committed to raise the money necessary to provide a college education or post-secondary vocational training course for any child willing and able to continue their education. We have already begun raising money for tuition, fees and other expenses through donations from our partnering churches and through individual contributions to our Scholarship Fund. We’re currently looking for partners to support a network of “student centers,” that will provide transitional housing for university-aged kids to live semi-independently while still under the guidance of Asia’s Hope staff.

It’s clear to us, though, that not every child will have the ability or desire to take advantage of these opportunities for continued education. In fact, some kids may not even graduate high school, and may pass directly into the job market before reaching age 18.

It’s tempting to see this as something of a loss, but I think that oversimplifies the narrative and fails to take fully into account the cultural opportunities and expectations at play in, say a country like Cambodia, where fewer than 15% of young adults are enrolled in tertiary education. Among hilltribe populations like those we serve in Thailand, many children in the villages receive little or no formal education, and marry shortly after entering puberty. In India, fewer than 50% of all kids finish high school. By local standards, every child at Asia’s Hope has been afforded extraordinary educational and social advantages.

It can be difficult for us as middle-class Westerners to not want for our kids in Asia something roughly equivalent to The American Dream: a college education, a white-collar job, a single-family dwelling with a continuous upwardly mobile career path. At Asia’s Hope we fully expect that many of our kids will aspire to and achieve that kind of life. We believe that we will see many doctors, lawyers, professors and executives among our graduates. However, we also expect to see — and will celebrate — kids who will work in factories, on farms, as laborers and shopkeepers, or who will get married and raise families.

Adding to the complexity is the fact that many of our kids entered our care far behind their peers academically due to their tragic life circumstances. We have a number of children who, as pre-adolescents, were their family’s primary breadwinner. We have some kids who have suffered emotional, psychological and neurological damage that will affect their academic potential.

Very few of our kids went to school on a daily basis prior to coming to Asia’s Hope. Thanks to the hard work of our staff and to ministry partners, many of those children have made amazing strides, catching up to their peers and in some cases surpassing them.

So what does “success” look like for our kids reaching adulthood? Certainly there is no one single outcome to which every child should aspire. We expect that every child will “graduate” from Asia’s Hope with a sense of security and with gratitude to a family and a God who rescued them from a life of poverty, loneliness and peril. We also pray that each of our departing kids will possess the education, the vocational skills and the confidence to live independently as productive members of the Kingdom of God and of their local community. Some kids may return to their villages and take up positions of leadership in their extended family. Some will enter the workforce directly, and others will go on to university before leaving our care.

We will continue to invest in programs and strategies designed to prepare all of our children for successful adulthood, and we will continue to lift them up in prayer and place them in God’s hands and watch them — often with bittersweet emotion — leave the nest.

For those of you who are key stakeholders in our homes, we will keep you updated as children transition out of our care, and will work with you to think through budgetary and strategic issues surrounding recruitment and replacement of new children to replace those leaving.

John McCollumComment
Important message about Cambodian adoptions

Important information about Asia’s Hope and the resumption of International Adoptions from Cambodia

Many of you may have heard the news that Cambodia has agreed to resume international adoptions and rescind the ban on such adoptions that has been in place since 2009 (http://bit.ly/W2uja4). I’ve already heard from supporters, partners and board members who want to know if Asia’s Hope is planning to make any of its children available for adoption.

The short answer is “no.” But the reasoning behind that answer is considerably more nuanced. I’d like to take the time to lay out some of our thoughts on the matter so you can help us field these questions when they come your way.

First of all, I want to be clear that as an adoptive father of three Asian children, I am wholeheartedly in support of international adoption in cases where orphaned children have no feasible options for long-term success in their country of origin. I’m thankful for all the people who worked hard to care for my children despite limited resources, and for the agencies and organizations who allowed Kori and I to bring Chien, Pak and Xiu Dan into our family. I strenuously reject many popular broadside criticisms of international adoption and find some of the generalizations about the motivations of birth families, agencies and adoptive families to be personally as well as professionally offensive and uniformed.

All this having been said, I also acknowledge that international adoption in general — and Cambodian adoption specifically — comes with ethical, economic and practical baggage that would introduce the potential for multiple negative outcomes for Asia’s Hope and few if any benefits.

Finances and Funding

One of the biggest threats to any organization dedicated to the rescuing, raising and restoring orphaned children is the introduction of a profit motive into the funding model.

Almost every documented instance of corruption or deception in the world of orphan care or adoption has occurred because someone — an agency employee, a facilitator, a birth-family member or a government official — knows that there is big money involved in international adoptions, and that there’s a potential to benefit financially by gaming the system.

As it stands, Asia’s Hope is financially stable, is accountable and transparent, operates debt free, and lives within its means. Because our funding model provides generously for our kids and staff, no one in our organization is incentivized by the potential to profit from our processes, either in the identification and intake of children or in the facilitation of an adoption to a Western country.

Our family based model

Each Asia’s Hope children’s home is based on a family, rather than an institutional model. Asia’s Hope hires a full-time mom and dad for each home. These parents live at the home and raise their own biological children alongside the Asia’s Hope kids. When orphaned children are brought into the home, they are treated not as patients or boarders. They’re considered brothers and sisters, sons and daughters.

Because we work so hard to foster a real family environment for each child in our care, we’re extremely hesitant to consider introducing factors into our organization that would threaten family cohesion. By “adopting out” kids from our homes, they would cease to be families, and would function as waystations, where kids would be passing in and out, and where our staff would be temporary caretakers, not parents. Even if we maintained our high staff-to-child ratio, our homes would surely take on institutional qualities to which we are adamantly opposed.

Furthermore, we would inevitably create multiple classes of children within our homes: those who are likely to be adopted, those who hope they will be adopted before they reach the 8-year old age limit, and those who know that they have no chance of being adopted. This would erode existing sibling bonds that are essential for each child’s current and future wellbeing.

Other considerations

By opening Asia’s Hope to international adoptions, we would forever enshrine a negative perception among our kids that we’re working so actively to dispel — that ‘escape’ to the West is the ultimate goal for a Cambodian kid. Fundamental to our model is the fervent belief that we are preparing our children to thrive in Cambodia as adults, and that they represent hope for Cambodia’s future.

Finally, we recognize that entering into the business of international adoptions would fundamentally alter our excellent relationship with the government of the Kingdom of Cambodia, and with other NGOs operating in the country, and would open us to bureaucratic interference, competition for resources and potential for fraud at a level heretofore unimaginable.

Conclusion

We at Asia’s Hope do not believe that we offer the only model of care for orphans, much less the only solution for the problems facing orphaned and destitute children. We are, however, convinced that we are called and equipped to continue on our current path and to continually invest in innovating and improving our existing funding and care models which have proved so beneficial to our kids and staff. We will, therefore, not be entering into the world of international adoption, and we will continue to raise all of our children in the families they’ve grown to love and depend upon.

Please feel free to contact me directly via phone 614.804.6233 or email john@asiashope.org with your questions or comments.